Page 5 of A Brat's Tale
We froze. “Do you think they’ve seen us, yet? We could make a run for it,” Lucca whispered to me.
“Yes, we’ve seen you, and we can hear you as well. Don’t even think about moving,” Papa said as he came around the corner. I knew better than to disobey a direct order like that; I remained where I was with Lucca against the hog, in the squishy mud.
“You sir are a mudball,” Papa said when he finally got a good look at me and he was not pleased. The queen was behind Papa, looking every bit as stunned. She ordered Lucca to her side, but I wasn’t getting that courtesy. Papa walked over and lifted me, unconcerned about the sticky mud, or my six-year-old pride.
Papa was a warrior, Father’s Second. When he wasn’t looking after me, he was on the field, ergo the mud covering one muddy little boy didn’t bother him like it had the queen.
“Let me down Papa. I’m too big to be carried.” I squirmed and pushed at him, but Papa was stronger and paid me no mind, even going as far as to smack my little bum as he began walking away with me. I looked back to see Lucca, who didn’t have it much better—the queen had grabbed him by the hand and was now dragging him up to the palace—as Papa carted me off to the barracks.
I had chambers in the palace, which is where Mother lived, but I also spent a great deal of my time in the large barracks, and so was given a room there as well. Papa and Father preferred to stay there, and I preferred to stay with them.
Father and Papa had a fine set of rooms in the barracks since Father was both Warlord and brother to the king. Normally, I loved being in the barracks; Mother often complained I spent all my time down there and not enough with her, but that day, I was panicking a little. Going down to the barracks increased the chances of having to tell Father of my transgression.
It’s all fun and games for a brat until they’re caught, and then they are left wishing they had behaved in the first place.
I tried to appeal to Papa’s softer side. “I’m sorry, Papa.”
Papa stopped walking, set me on my feet, and crouched down to look into my eyes, giving a wry smile. “How was the pie?”
“How did you know about the pie?”
He laughed. “It’s all over your face little man.” He reached out to wipe the corner of my mouth with his thumb.
“We shouldn’t have done it and I’m sorry, but please don’t take me to Father; he’ll murder me.” Papa lifted me, and I was set on his hip once again as we continued toward the barracks. “I said I was sorry,Papa. Will you please put me down?” Life felt very unfair at that moment.
“No.” He was quiet as I contemplated my certain doom, but finally, he spoke. “I should let you continue tothinkI’m taking you to your father, but I won’t. I’m just going to clean you up, then we’ll go back to the palace to discuss the repercussions of what you and your cousin did.”
“Are you going to spank me?”
“I should.” Papa sighed. “But I’m not going to. I will have to tell your father and I can’t promise you he won’t.”
There was no question about that. Even as a little boy, I knew Papa reported to Father about all things. Still, a boy could hope. Thinking back, this was one of the many things about their relationship I never questioned, but now I see it was a part of their domestic discipline style marriage. Otherwise, I don’t believe he would have had to tell Father absolutely everything. Not the small things anyway.
“Lucky for you, he’s out at the moment. I came to fetch you from your mother and I am not pleased to find that you were not with her.”
“Oh, c’mon Papa, don’t be mad.” I hated it most when Papa was mad at me. “I was, but she said Lucca and I could go off and play around the palace.”
“You are much too young to be left to your own devices in such a large place.”
“I’m six.” I remember puffing my chest out, trying to make myself bigger. Thing was, Papa was huge, especially to the six-year-old me.
“Do not sass me, young man, you are in enough trouble as is.”
I also knew well the difference between “little man” and “young man.” “Yes, sir.” I obeyed and shut my mouth.
Papa carried me all the way. I didn’t know it then, but because I was Papa’s only child, he allowed himself to indulge in things like carrying me, even when it was unnecessary, and I know he saw it as a deterrent from future misbehavior.
“You’re a silly little boy, you are,” he said to me when we were finally on our way to the baths near the barracks. He had to spend some time dumping buckets of water over me, to rid the excess mudbefore we could think about entering the baths. I’d had enough mud on me to turn the bath water into a swamp.
“I said sorry, Papa.”
“Sorry until you and Lucca are involved in the next pot of chaos you stir.” But he was smiling.
“Lucca’s fun. I’m glad he’s my cousin. You think I’ll ever have a brother, or maybe a sister?”
He raised both brows. “Don’t you think one mud-boy is enough for me to take care of?”
He reached down to tickle me until I was giggling. “Yeah! Yeah. One’s enough!”
